


That I Can Do

by EternallyEC



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Accidental Edible, F/M, Spuffy, Timeline What Timeline, pot brownies, prompt-based, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternallyEC/pseuds/EternallyEC
Summary: Prompt from otp-questions on Tumblr:You ate those brownies at the party - even though I told you not to - and now you’re paranoid as hell.“Sweetheart, I swear to you there is nothing in the closet. Now will you please go to sleep?”
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	That I Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> A story I wrote a few years ago and decided to bring over! This one was initially supposed to take the place of _Where the Wild Things Are_ , but it got away from me a bit. It does take place sometime during season 4 and, according to the notes on the other posting of this, she knows about Riley but they haven't slept together yet. But ultimately, this is a 'choose your own timeline' kind of adventure. 
> 
> The gorgeous banner was created by **DauntlessGrace**! 
> 
> And, last but not least, a very special thank you goes to [Jenna Moreci](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCS_fcv9kBpDN4WWrfcbCrgw) for [this video](https://youtu.be/vl5KFMOYPKg) that really helped me to write my first ever fight scene!

“Was that a vampire?!” Buffy shouted, causing the few other students still out to give her odd looks and a wide berth. Spike could hear the ones with their mates muttering about “a crazy chick” and he sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Luv, as I’ve said a dozen times already, not so bleedin’ loud with the vampires bit,” he hissed. “We’re almost home, kitten. Then you’ll be safe as houses and I... Oh _bollocks_ , I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this,” he groaned, dragging a frustrated hand down his face. “How in the bleedin’ hell did I get stuck escorting you home, Slayer?”

Buffy giggled, a light and carefree sound that he’d never heard from her before and his frustration melted away a bit. “Those brownies were good, Spike. Can we go back and get more? Just a couple. _Please?_ ” she wheedled, all puppy dog eyes and an innocent smile that almost made him cave.

And just like that, the frustration was back. “No, we bloody well can’t! Barely got you out of there as it is, Slayer, with all your rantin’ and ravin’ about vampires being among us and why couldn’t they see that. And you almost ratted me out in the middle of the sodding Initiative headquarters!” Spike didn’t know what he would have done if Red hadn’t realized what Buffy was about to say when she’d turned to him after her warning had been met with disbelieving laughter and scorn. The witch had done some sort of mojo that left Buffy unable to speak just long enough to get them out of Lowell House.

“But it’s true! Vampires are everywhere and maybe if they would pull their heads out of the sand and see that, my job would be a little easier!” Buffy insisted, and he had to admit that her logic made a strange sort of sense.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But that’s not the way it works and you know it, pet. Not everyone is capable of facing the truth about what’s really out there.” He noticed that her focus was gone from him again and sighed. Only five more minutes and he could safely deposit the Slayer in her dorm room and be off. Just five more minutes...

“Is that a vampire?! He’s coming this way!” Buffy screeched, tripping over her feet for the tenth time since they’d left the party and Spike wondered just how much it would hurt him to give her a little love tap, just enough to knock her unconscious for the next five minutes 

~

"And here we are, luv,” Spike proclaimed tiredly as they drew to a stop in front of Buffy’s dorm room. She opened the door and walked inside, sitting down on her bed heavily and turning to look at Spike.

“What, pet? Did my duty, you’re safe in your beddy bye and it’s time for this vampire to go have a stiff one,” Spike muttered, frowning at the way her lower lip jutted out in a pout at his words.

She jumped up from the bed and returned to the doorway, reaching out to take hold of his hand. Tugging on it, she grunted in frustration and stamped her foot when he didn’t budge, her Slayer strength forgotten in her high. “Please don’t leave,” she whispered, her eyes drifting up to find his face--and sod it all to hell, they were wide and terrified and Spike knew he’d be staying. She tugged again and this time he let her pull her into the room, relaxing when he saw the fear fade from her eyes to be replaced with joy. 

Reaching behind him, he swung the door shut and Buffy dropped his hand, returning to perch on her bed expectantly. “I feel weird,” she announced thoughtfully. "Like a balloon that’s been cut loose from its’ string and is just bobbing around, carefree and happy and able to do whatever it wants...” She shifted until she was leaning against the headboard on one side of the bed and she giggled, patting the space beside her in obvious invitation. “Take a load off, Spikey,” she suggested, giggling again. “ _Spikey._ That’s funny. I can’t believe you didn’t kill that halfwit.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Spike agreed, shrugging his duster off and carefully draping it across the back of the desk chair. “You sure about this, pet?” he asked, eyeing the spot beside her with more than a little trepidation. “Don’t fancy fittin’ into an ashtray when this is over.”

“I’m sure and I promise I won’t stake you later,” she promised, and maybe he was a fool but he believed her. There was a sincerity in her eyes that convinced him and he slid into the spot next to her, careful to keep his hands and legs as far away from her as the narrow bed would allow. 

She smiled at him and deliberately moved closer to him, suddenly turning and burying her face in his chest. Spike froze, completely at a loss. Not even a century of dealing with his insane Sire could have prepared him for dealing with an extremely high Slayer with paranoia and the touchy feelies, he thought, fighting back a chuckle. That chuckle disappeared when he suddenly felt her body shake and his arms instinctively closed around her, drawing her even closer to his body. “Shhh, it’s all right, kitten,” he whispered, sickeningly almost relieved to be back on somewhat solid ground. “What’s wrong?”

“Scared,” she sniffled, squeezing with Slayer strength. Spike bit his lip to hold back a cry of pain. “There are bad things out there that wanna hurt me, Spike. What if there’s one in here?”

Had Buffy been in her right mind, this would have been the perfect moment for a reminder that there was one! Only he didn’t know if that was exactly true anymore, did he? Shaking the unnerving thought away, he absently began stroking her hair comfortingly. “’s your own fault, Slayer. Told you I smelled something weird about those brownies. But you couldn’t listen to ole Spike, could you? Had to eat three of the soddin’ things to spite me,” he grumbled, carefully keeping any edge out of his voice for fear of upsetting her more. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “Will you please check the closet? I think I heard something.”

“Save me from paranoid Slayers,” Spike muttered, too low for her to hear. “All right, pet. Be back in a tick.” Reluctantly, she loosened her hold on him and moved away, allowing him to stand up. It took him less than a minute to reach and check out the closet and proclaim it monster free, much to Buffy’s relief. 

Settling back into bed, he took a much happier Buffy back into his arms and wondered how much longer the drugs in her system would be in effect... and how he was going to reconcile the normal bitchy Slayer with the sweet, carefree girl he was sharing this night with in the morning.

~

“Check again!” Buffy begged, her eyes wide with terror. “I _know_ I heard something growling in there, Spike!” With a barely disguised eye roll, Spike climbed out of bed to check the closet for what felt like the millionth time. “See, Slayer, nothing here,” he reassured her, moving clothes around to convince her he was really looking. 

“What if it’s invisible?!” Her eyes widened and he heard her heartbeat quicken with panic, could smell the fear wafting off of her in waves and it made his undead heart clench. “Like that demon in the hospital who only really sick people could see and I almost killed myself trying to save Billy and I was Super Girl and...” she babbled as Spike quickly crossed back over to the bed and took her into his arms, a gesture that was becoming far too comfortable for his liking.

“Sweetheart, I swear to you there is nothing in the closet. Now will you please go to sleep?” he pleaded, rubbing soothing circles on her back until he heard her heart slowly returning to a normal pace. 

“You’re sure?” she asked weakly. 

“I’m sure, pet,” he soothed. “There’s absolutely nothing in the closet besides what belongs there.” That was when he heard it--a low growl that sent Buffy into hysterics again. “Oh, _balls,”_ he muttered.

“That was it! It’s in there, Spike. You have to believe me!” Buffy pleaded, desperation lacing her frantic voice.

“Shh, kitten,” he soothed, keeping his eyes trained on the closet. “Heard it that time, luv. Where are your weapons?” he asked softly, trying to keep their conversation from whatever beastie was lurking in the closet. 

Obviously catching onto the plan, Buffy’s voice was just as quiet when she answered, “In the chest right beside the bed. There’s a false bottom so they might be too hard to get to. There are a few things stashed loose under the bed. Be careful.”

He nodded. “Right then.” Raising his voice to a normal level, he made a show of climbing out of bed and knocking his lighter to the ground. “Bloody hell,” he cursed as he knelt to pick it up, snagging a stake and an artful little holstered dagger at the same time. Slipping those into his waistband, he straightened with a sigh. “All right, luv. Closet check one hundred and one coming right up.” 

Keeping one hand casually near the stashed weapons, he approached the closet with the same placating attitude he’d adopted the other times. Brushing through the clothes again, he discreetly sniffed the air but found no unusual scents, nor could he place any sounds that would indicate a demon being in the vicinity. Curiouser and curiouser, he mused as he stalled, his demon itching for a fight but not having a reason to stay there any longer without raising suspicion. “Nothing here, luv,” he called.”

“Since you’re there, would you mind looking for Mr. Gordo?” she asked innocently, and he had to fight a grin. He’d seen her stuffed pig underneath her bed so he knew she’d just given him the opening he needed. 

As he pulled a box from the closet, a nasty stench wafted over him and it was all he could do not to react. Got you now, he thought gleefully as he started digging through the box, keeping a careful watch on the corner from the corner of his eye.

He started slightly when the demon began to materialize but was able to cover it by quickly grabbing one of Buffy’s crosses. “Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer, could have warned a bloke you had dangerous things about before askin’ me to go through your bleedin’ things.” 

He barely heard Buffy’s inane reply as he focused on the demon. It was still coming into focus but he could tell two things--it had about six inches and a hundred pounds on him, and it was a dark blue color that faintly jogged something in his memory.

He didn’t have time to think about it more because that was the moment the demon noticed he had been noticed and charged directly for Spike. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, rolling to the side and grabbing the dagger from his waistband. The demon couldn’t stop his momentum and crashed to the ground “Do you see him, Slayer?” he yelled.

“Yes!” she replied, and he was glad to hear that the tremor was gone from her voice, replaced by an edge that was all Slayer.

“How about a little help here then?” he asked as the demon recovered and came for him again. He easily dodged the first punch and the next, finding his rhythm quickly. The demon was all brute strength and no skill and he found it easy to evade his blows. The problem was searching for an opening to get inside his defenses.

He heard a crash and the Slayer cried out in pain, making Spike glance over at her in concern and leaving him open to the power of the demon’s punch. Buffy was on the bed, clutching her knee in pain and he could smell the blood. “Bloody good time for you to come up all clumsy, Slayer!” Spike shouted indignantly as he staggered to his feet just in time to avoid another blow. He could feel the blood dripping from his nose, the pain telling him it was likely broken. “You’ll pay for that,” he growled, his tongue darting out to catch the dripping blood and drawing strength from the taste. 

With that, he unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks that didn’t seem to do much to the demon but it sure as hell made _him_ feel better--and it kept his opponent from having the chance to go on the attack, so all the better as far as he was concerned. He saw the tiniest opening just in the center of the demon’s chest and went for it with the dagger, but his arm was caught in the brute’s grip and he flung him across the room into the wall.

Spike fell to the floor in a heap, every inch of him aching from the force of the throw. Looking up, fully expecting to see the demon towering over him, he was somehow not surprised to find that he’d focused his attention on Buffy instead. “Slayer,” the beast growled, and Spike felt a surge of fear and protectiveness for the girl scrambling over the bed. 

He could see the demon properly now--its’ face was elongated and covered with suppurating sores. His chest and arms were armor-plated and shimmering blue ram horns grew from his skull, ending in pointed tips. It was the horns that finally jogged Spike’s memory and he yelled, “It’s the horns, Buffy! You have to destroy the horns to kill the bugger!”

Letting out an outraged bellow, the demon began to lumber towards the be. Buffy quickly slipped off the other side and dropped to the ground, reaching blindly for a weapon as she kept her eyes trained on her foe. Her hand withdrew at the same time her opponent leaned over the bed, and she quickly jabbed the stake she’d grabbed into his eye.

Roaring with pain, he backhanded her across the room. She landed next to Spike, gasping sharply with pain. Fully outraged now, Spike ignored his screaming muscle’ protests and forced himself to his feet. Pure fury was driving him now. He didn’t know when it had happened and knew he would be thinking about that for a long time, but at some point he had decided that Buffy was one of his. And no one hurt one of his without paying a hefty price.

“That all you got, you wanker?” he sneered with a bravado he didn’t feel. The mask felt comfortable though, familiar. He’d always been one to cover up his feelings with bluster and it had served him well enough in the past. No reason to hope that it wouldn’t do the same now.

The demon approached slowly, Buffy’s stake still embedded in his eye and still growling with pained rage. Spike raised his hands and wiggled his fingers in the age-old _come on then_ gesture he’d perfected as a fledgling. 

The dance began anew, circling each other warily for a moment. The beastie wasn’t nearly as confident as he had been, nor was Spike. Rather than rush into the fight again, they just observed each other, trying to suss out any weaknesses.

Growing impatient, Spike made the first move. Ducking underneath the demon’s defenses, he reached up and grabbed the stake in his eye and gave it a good twist. Following that up with a kick to the face, his opponent fell to his knees and he avoided the desperate arms trying to grab his legs easily enough.

Taking hold of the horns was harder than he’d expected. They were slick and burned his hands where he touched, but Spike grit his teeth and held on, using all of his strength to twist while evading the increasingly desperate grabs for purchase. But it was no use--even using every ounce of his vampiric strength, the bloody things w _ould not move._

_“_ Not good, that,” he muttered with a frown. “Bloody hell!”

“Need some help?” He looked up to see the Slayer standing behind the demon. Giving him a swift kick to the head, their foe fell unconscious and Spike nodded gratefully. 

“The horns burn, luv. Be careful.” She nodded and grabbed the blanket from her bed, tossing them over the horns and grabbing hold of one. Even her strength wasn’t enough to force the damn things off and she looked at Spike. Her request was immediately clear and he grinned as he added his hands and strength to hers and finally, the bloody thing began to twist. 

It took several moments but it finally came off completely. Tossing it to the side, Buffy quipped, “Just what I always wanted--a ram's horn to decorate my dorm room. It would go great with the arm in the box I got for my seventeenth birthday if I still had it!” 

Spike had the decency to look sheepish as they went to work on the other horn. It had just begun to twist when the demon awoke again with a scream of pain, unlike anything Spike had ever heard. He winced in sympathy for a moment, right up until the demon managed to grab hold of his leg and pull him to the ground. 

“Spike!” Buffy cried out, and in her inattention, the blanket slipped from beneath her hand. It began to burn as it made contact with the acidic horn and she whimpered with pain. “Shit!” she cried out as the demon threw his head back, the jagged edge where the other horn had been slashing through her shirt and burning the tender flesh of her stomach. 

“Slayer!” Spike roared, his demon drawn to the forefront by the scent of Buffy’s blood. He headbutted the demon, using his distraction to climb to his feet. Delivering a solid jab to the face, he watched him fall back to unconsciousness before racing to Buffy’s side. “All right, luv?” he asked gently, ripping her shirt enough to move it away from the wound so he could inspect it. “Not deep. Should probably get the Watcher to check it out though.”

“It hurts,” she whimpered. “But we should finish killing this thing before we worry about it,” she reminded him softly but in that no-nonsense tone she always adopted in Slayer mode. He nodded and retrieved the blanket, dropping it over the horn again. 

A few moments later and the second horn was gone and the demon slowly began to dissolve into a puddle of sludge that quickly evaporated--horns and all. “Well damn, there goes my new decorations,” she quipped, gracing him with a smile.

“Wouldn’t have matched your decor anyway,” he joked back, smiling widely. “Feelin’ better then?”

“High-wise? Yes. But my stomach and hand could definitely use some bandaging. You up for it?” she asked.

“’Course, pet. Supplies in the chest?” She nodded and he gestured for her to sit on the bed as he rummaged through the chest for what he’d need. She sat down gingerly, gasping softly when doing so tugged at her wound painfully. Spike glanced at her and she nodded reassuringly so he went back to digging.

“What _was_ that thing?” she asked softly as he knelt before her, setting the tin of ointment and package of dressing on the floor beside him. 

Glancing at the location of the first burn, Spike hesitated. “Luv, don’t dust me for this, but I think the shirt’s going to have to go.” 

Buffy didn’t say a word as she pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her upper half covered by nothing more than a sheer pink lacy number that left Spike feeling decidedly uncomfortable in his jeans. He swallowed hard and forced his attraction from his mind as he began to work. “Don’t rightly remember the name, pet. ‘ve only seen them a time or two. I’ve heard tell they’re almost extinct.” She hissed slightly at the first touch of the ointment to her wound and he glanced at her apologetically, trying to be as gentle as he could and once again wondering why he cared. 

She graced him with a smile even as her brow furrowed in thought. “But if they’re almost extinct, what sense does it make to attack a Slayer?” she questioned, her smile dissolving into a confused frown.

“Let me see your hand, pet.” Buffy acquiesced and he pondered her question as he worked. “I don’t rightly know,” he finally answered as he switched the ointment for the dressing. “Could be any number of things really. Maybe you’d killed a friend of his or maybe he was just out looking for a bit of glory.” He shrugged as he focused on his task again. “Don’t know that it’s anything to worry about, luv.”

“He was in my room, Spike. Mine and Willow’s... Oh god, what if we hadn’t been here and Willow had?” Her eyes widened and he could hear her heart beginning to pound. 

“Shhh, pet,” he soothed, carefully finishing her hand. He glanced at his handiwork critically and nodded in approval. “That’s done.” Swiftly he gathered the supplies and returned them to the trunk before sitting on the bed next to her. She went into his embrace, sniffling against his shirt as he settled into the now-familiar routine of gently stroking her hair and rubbing small circles on her back. 

“Red wasn’t here, pet, and the thing is dead gone,” he said gently. 

“This time! What about the next time a demon is waiting in my room? First, it was you and now this...” So focused was she on her fears, she missed his wince at the reminder of his attack on the witch months earlier. “I’m endangering her just by _being_ here, Spike.” 

“Willow knows all about you, Slayer. Think she’d be here if she didn’t know the risks and decided that you’re worth it?” he asked reasonably. He felt her falter at that so he pressed. “And Red is hell on the magicks. She could take on a beastie or two if she had to, at least buy enough time to run.” 

She sniffled again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right... Spike, can I ask you something?”

“Anythin’.”

"Why did you stay with me tonight?” she asked softly, ducking her head even further into him. “I mean, not that I’m not grateful because I _so am._ I just don’t understand why you would try to warn me about the brownies, walk me home and then stay here with me. Not to mention saving my life.”

He sighed. “Truth is, Buffy, _I’m_ not even bleedin’ sure why I did any of it. Can we just accept that I did it without figuring out my motivations.”

She pulled back to look up at him, worrying her lower lip nervously. There was nervousness and some soft emotion he couldn’t name in her green eyes as they met his. “Promise me something?”

“What’s that, luv?”

“If you figure it out...” She hesitated and he ran his hand over her hair again, the gesture calming her enough to finish. “If you do, let me know?” she whispered, fear shining in her eyes.

He smiled and nodded, leaning forward to drop a gentle kiss on the top of her head--an action that felt _far_ too natural and right to even contemplate. “That, I can do, luv,” he said softly, giving him this rare moment of peace between them to rest his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair. “That I can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, and please come scream with me about fandoms on Tumblr @amandadawnblock!


End file.
